


soft & sweet

by pancakepaladin



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, ryukita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11737380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakepaladin/pseuds/pancakepaladin
Summary: yusuke and ryuji have a simple and happy life together, all things considered.





	soft & sweet

**Author's Note:**

> just some self indulgent ryukita fluff because i've yet again fallen head over heels for a rarepair, rip. i've been writing fanfiction for like twelve years and this is one of the first times i've posted it publically WHO KNEW. also i'm bad at titles, forgive me. but please enjoy this cute rarepair as much as i do! unbeta'd, so let me know if there happens to be anything amiss.

“Hey, you’ve been sitting at that easel all day, why don’t you take a break, Yu?” Ryuji asked, leaning up against the doorframe and watching his boyfriend sitting at the low easel, long legs bent, back hunched as his arms and hands worked on the canvas before him. Yusuke was a joy to watch as he worked, all grace and long limbs, the gentle features of his elegant face furrowed as he concentrated whole heartedly on the canvas before him. Ryuji always thought it was cute to watch his lanky boyfriend paint or sketch, and even more so that Yusuke hardly seemed to notice his eyes on him while he watched him, so engrossed in his craft he barely noticed the adoring gaze from the blonde. He had a gallery show coming up, so he’d been working nonstop the past few weeks in his little studio in the small apartment they shared. 

They had moved in together after dating a couple of years, after months of gentle begging from the taller and hesitation from Ryuji, who had spent most of his life living with and taking care of his sick mother. 

“Oh, babe, you know I’d love that, but I just… I just can’t, my mom, you know…” he’d murmured sadly after Yusuke had brought it up again one night. And he understood, really, or at least he tried to, not having parents himself. Ryuji’s mother was a gentle woman, who worked hard despite her illness, and had welcomed Yusuke into their home with open arms and absolutely no hesitation. In fact, the first time Ryuji had brought Yusuke home to meet his mother, the first words out of her mouth after her welcomes were “Wow! He’s a lot cuter than you said he was, Ryu!” she had chirped, making Yusuke laugh and Ryuji blush all the way up to his ears. 

She owned the floral shop Ryuji worked at, and usually did the books and numbers upstairs in the office while Ryuji tended to the front and made the deliveries. It really had been just Ryuji and his mom all these years after his dad had up and left, so asking him to leave the cozy two bedroom he’d grown up in had to be difficult.  
The subject had caused a bit of a rift in their relationship, Ryuji unable to meet the sad gaze of his artist boyfriend over dates and from across the bed as they both avoided the subject. Ryu’s mother noticed her son’s gloomy demeanor, uncharacteristically quiet over dinner, poking at his rice absently.

“Ryuji, baby, what’s on your mind?” she asked gently, pouring herself some tea. Ryuji could never lie to his mother, he never had been able to ever since he was little, and sighed deeply as he confessed what was on his mind. She had told him not to let her hold him back from continuing his relationship with Yusuke and taking the next step. 

“Be honest with yourself, are you just using me as an excuse because you’re scared to move forward?” she’d asked, always hitting the nail on the head. I’ll be fine, she chided, waving her hand at him. They had nice neighbors and a kind landlord, and it’s not like he’d be moving out of the country or anything. “Just promise you’ll call me every day and at least come to dinner once a week, alright?” she’d asked, which he laughed at, like they didn’t work in the same place every single day.

Ryuji had been excited to tell Yusuke, but the artist had beat him to it, excitedly telling Ryuji that he’d found an apartment for rent in the building right next door, so Ryuji could still keep an eye on his mother and be close to the shop. Ryuji had practically leapt into the taller’s arms at the news, kissing him soft. 

Ryuji continued his work at the floral shop, checking on his mother every other day, expanding their business with delivery options on his motorbike all around. He had been very proud of the old school bike, which he’d saved for months to buy, presenting it happily to his boyfriend and mother one morning outside the shop with a sung fanfare. “Isn’t it great?” he’d asked, grinning. With transportation he could help expand the shop’s reach and business easily. They had both looked from the rusty bike to each other and back at Ryuji; his mother finally shrugging and mumbling “At least wear a helmet” before turning to go back inside the shop. Yusuke, however, unable to hide his facial expressions, thought it was the ugliest thing he had ever seen, which he told Ryuji rather dramatically. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that, Yusuke, it just needs a little tune up and from tlc!”  
“It needs to be set on fire. In fact I think it might burst into flames the minute you start it up” the artist had replied, rolling his eyes. Ryuji had waved off the comment, slinging his leg over the bike and cranking it up, answered by a puff of black smoke from the tailpipe and loud motor.  
“See? No flames! Listen to that baby purr!” he laughed, patting the handlebars. Yusuke made a face like the bike’s backfire had just said something to offend all of his ancestors, hand covering his mouth to avoid breathing in the exhaust. 

“You wanna go for a ride, good looking?” Ryuji had asked, eyebrows waggling suggestively, patting the seat behind him. Yusuke had refused. His loss. 

Yusuke continued to paint and sell his art in galleries, and they lived a simple, happy life together. They came home to each other every night and woke up with each other every morning, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t be happier. Ryuji made them breakfast every morning and dinner almost every night, made sure that Yusuke ate three meals a day. The artist had the tendencies to get lost in his work and forget to eat, but Ryuji was always there to remind him, pull him gently away from the canvas and make sure he ate and got some rest. Ryuji never imagined he’d be what Futaba had jokingly called a house husband, cooking for his partner, but he realized he didn’t mind it. “I have a job too you know, and we’re not even married, so how can I even be that?!” he’d argued back to the petite hacker. She snorted, “Everyone’s seen that picture of you in the apron, Ryuji” she giggled, referring to the picture Ann had sneakily took of him wearing his mother’s apron, which had a bright floral print and scalloped edges to it, and tied in a big bow at the back. “Does Inari like when you wear that for him?” Futaba had laughed loudly, enjoying Ryuji’s annoyed glare. He had immediately gone out and bought a more neutral looking apron to cook in, which Yusuke cocked his head at. “What?” he’d asked. The artist shrugged. “I kind of liked the florals.” Always a stickler for those aesthetics, it seemed. 

It was all worth it on their days off together, curled up on the couch together and watching television, spending rainy mornings in bed, laughing as they cooked dinner together. Yusuke was relatively useless around the kitchen, burning himself on every surface imaginable, so he mostly washed dishes and helped prep, while pressing gentle kisses to the shorter’s cheek and that low, gentle laugh in his ear. Ryuji Sakamoto had it made. 

Back in the present, Yusuke hadn’t acknowledged him, concentrating on the even strokes and choosing the right colours from his painter’s palette. There was a big gallery show coming up and he had been sketching and preparing for months, already producing many pieces the gallery owners loved. Unfortunately this also meant he’d holed himself up in the second bedroom of their apartment, which they’d turned into his studio. At least he was eating, Ryuji supposed, seeing evidence of the act when he got home from work and in the mornings. But it also meant Yusuke stayed up late into the night and woke up early, meaning Ryuji started going to bed and waking up alone again. They were both messy sleepers, and he found that he missed not only the comfort and warmth, but also the tangle of limbs and bunching of sheets and pillows they ended up nesting in. Yusuke Kitagawa was a notorious cover stealer, but Ryuji was a terrible bed hog. Akira had learned that the hard way one the many nights Ryuji crashed with him, waking up to both the dark haired boy and Morgana yowling as Ryuji unconsciously pushed them both out of the bed. Typical. Ryuji didn’t notice the cover stealing habit until the first winter they lived together, waking up freezing and curled up into the fetal position because Yusuke had somehow wrapped himself in a four blanket burrito.  
“Maybe you should sleep with more clothes on” Yusuke had quipped at him over breakfast, noting that Ryuji usually only slept in his boxers and rarely a muscle shirt year round, compared to the matching sets of pajamas Yusuke wore. Who had pajama sets? Yusuke did, apparently. “I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t King Burrito over there!” Ryuji had argued back. 

“You two were made for each other” Ann had quipped one night over dinner and drinks with everyone. “Makoto steals all the blankets too” she had loudly whispered in his ear a minute later, both blondes laughing in their tipsy state and making the brunette girl blush from across the booth. 

Ryuji strode over to his boyfriend; wearing his lounging clothes of a brightly colored muscle shirt and loose athletic shorts, twining his arms around Yusuke’s neck lightly, resting his chin on the painter’s shoulder. 

“Come on, babe, take a little break. Stretch your legs. Let me rub some knots out of your back, hmm?” he purred into his boyfriend’s ear, grinning as his paintbrush faltered. They enjoyed giving each other massages; Ryuji would stretch his legs out into Yusuke’s lap while they lounged on the couch and the taller would rub his aching feet, from standing around in the shop all day; magic fingers rubbing and squeezing just right, continuing up his ankles and calves, making him melt into the couch cushions. He’d gaze over at the older from his pillow puddle, loving the warm smile he wore, fingers working as his eyes never left the television set and whatever news or art documentary they were watching. Ryuji in turn would work all the knots out of Yusuke’s neck, shoulders and back, brought on by hunching over sketchbooks, canvases and his drawing table. These usually took place in the bath, Yusuke’s gentle, appreciative moans as the blonde expertly worked all the tight spots out sounding like heaven on earth. Usually he’d wrap his arms around that thin waist and press gentle kisses down every notch of the taller’s spine, and returning to kiss the sweet little spot behind the artist’s ear that made him melt.  
“Think of it, Yu, a nice warm bath, your favorite boyfriend giving you a nice massage, who knows…” he trailed off, running his nose in the side of dark silky hair, chuckling in his ear as he felt the painter sit back a little. 

“Ryuji, you know I have a deadline, I can’t…” his deep, gentle voice answered, a little rough from sitting quietly to himself for the past few days, but lifting a hand up to rest on the arms around his neck nonetheless.  
“And aren’t you my only boyfriend, anyway?” He ran a gentle thumb over Ryuji’s arm, the tiniest smile on his lips. His eyes were still tired though, bags underneath them uncharacteristic of the elegant boy.  
“I know, babe, but you’ve been working so hard, you deserve a little rest and break, don’t you? What’s a few hours, hm? Besides, I miss you. I miss a lot of you…” he trailed off, one hand lazily trailing down Yusuke’s shirt and dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. He felt Yusuke shudder, “I’ll do that thing you like, you know with my tongue and your-“  
“Ryuji!” Yusuke exclaimed, gently but firmly snaking out of the blonde’s hold. The lightest flush was on his cheeks, still scandalized at Ryuji’s forwardness and dirty talk. Especially his dirty talk. Ryuji grinned wickedly back at him, “What do you say, Yu?”  
Yusuke sighed, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.  
“I told you, I can’t, Ryuji, I have a deadline. I’m sorry. I’m just really busy…” Ryuji’s smile and stance deflated, feeling an uncharacteristic pout coming on.  
“But… but I … I miss you” he sighed. “Isn’t… isn’t that why you wanted to move in together? So we could spend time together, and … and be around for each other… and you know, go to sleep with one another every night..?”  
“We still sleep in the same bed every night, Ryuji” Yusuke answered curtly. “You can’t miss that, it’s never left.”  
The blonde gently curled up against Yusuke’s back, pressing gentle kisses to the base of the taller’s neck.  
“It’s not just that though, Yusuke, I miss… I miss being intimate, you know? And not just... not just because we haven’t had sex in a few days, but I miss being close to you, is all, babe….” He trailed off. He received no answer or movement from his boyfriend, and sighed dejectedly, untangling himself from the painter, and slowly exiting the room. It was worth a try, he guessed. 

Ryuji had slumped down on the couch with leftover takeout, too dejected to cook this evening, glowering at the random late night talk show laughing on the screen. Suddenly the tv was covered, his tall boyfriend standing in front of it. Ryuji looked up at him and blinked owlishly, biteful of spicy beef halfway to his mouth.  
“What are you doing sitting there? Didn’t you promise me a massage and a warm bath?” Yusuke asked, long fingers working the buttons of his shirt open deftly. Ryuji stared as the taller boy turned and shrugged off his shirt; long elegant back revealed, dropping it to the floor. 

“Well?” he asked, looking over his shoulder, devilish smirk on his handsome face and deep, amused chuckle as the blonde leapt from the couch to follow him into their washroom. Yeah, Ryuji Sakamoto definitely had it made.


End file.
